


The Sharpshooter

by RobinTrigue



Series: Emotionally Supportive Shorts [3]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Fluff, Long-Distance Relationship, Multi, Polyamory, finisher moves, set after HIAC 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 13:34:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8447911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinTrigue/pseuds/RobinTrigue
Summary: Cesaro calls his boyfriend to apologise for not being able to win the tag team titles at Hell in a Cell. Tyson wishes he could be there to help.





	

“I _had_ him,” Cesaro said into his phone. “I had it locked in, Woods was tapping, and then that brainless oaf-”

“I saw,” said Tyson, heading off another rant. Cesaro was using his free hand to cover his face, flinging it out whenever he had another point to make. If Tyson had been there instead of stuck in Florida, he could have calmed Cesaro down in moments with a hug or a kiss, or else gotten riled up with him, spent the night drinking and shouting together, making wild plans to snatch their victory back. But he was in Florida.

“Tyson, I was _that_ close.” Cesaro sounded defeated, looked worse than even after a usual loss; but then, it was a PPV title match. “I was _so_ close to winning the titles back.”

“You _did_ win them back,” Tyson insisted. It was true, in spirit. “Toni, it was an amazing match, if you’d been watching it instead of in it – you were on _perfect_ form tonight, ever the professional, watching you was incredible. Disqualifications suck, you got that victory and it deserves to be recognised. It’s not your fault the ref was blind.”

Cesaro sighed and sank back against the wall; Tyson’s facetime screen flashed upwards to show only the ceiling for a moment, before he called out quietly and Cesaro righted it.

“Have you showered yet?” he asked, wishing he could actually help.

“No.” Cesaro shook his head, still staring off into space instead of down at the camera. Tyson lifted his phone into the air a little; this way he was looking up at his taller boyfriend, it felt almost normal. Almost.

Cesaro finally looked down. “Tyson, if I’d made him submit to the Sharpshooter, you know it would have been our win, right? You know that? You would have been there with me, then they would have been our titles again, winning them back from the New Day, just like we should have. Just like we’d always said.” He brought his hand away from his face again, gesturing just offscreen in frustration. “Your sharpshooter, it was _locked in_ Tyson – it was _there_ , it would have been us again, and instead I’m stuck with – with this _lumbering-_ ”

“Sheamus is a great wrestler, Antonio,” Tyson reminded him.

“Yes, yes.” Cesaro waved a hand dismissively. “Of course I know that.”

There was silence for a moment, because there was nothing either of them could say that would change... that could change any of the things that had led to this situation.

“You know I’m always there with you,” Tyson told him. “Every match, it’s us. Even if you’d won with an uppercut, even if Sheamus – no, _listen_ to me – even if the next shot you two get at the tag belts, even if Sheamus takes New Day out with a Brogue Kick, that’s still our win, you hear me? Because I love you, remember?”

Cesaro smiled a little, a weak, relieved laugh breaking through his stress and frustration.

“ _There_ you are, I knew you were buried under that gloomy face somewhere.” Cesaro’s smile widened despite himself. Tyson grinned. “Toni, watching you out there, it felt like I was in the ring with you. I felt like I was wrestling again. You were _perfect_ tonight.”

Cesaro’s face tightened a little as he stared into his screen; he and Nattie didn’t talk about Tyson wrestling again, not really, at least not anywhere that Tyson could hear them. He knew they wanted him to, he could feel it thrumming in their bones nearly as much as in his own, the joy of being in the ring with someone you care about so deeply, of your moves flowing into one another’s so easily and smoothly. But they wouldn’t say anything, he could see how hard it was for them to bite their tongues every time they looked at him in case he never got the all-clear. They loved him too much to ever get his hopes up, and he loved them for that. But tonight, it was true: every time Cesaro had got back up, had kept fighting, Tyson had felt like he was on that turnbuckle, about to watch him claim their victory.

Whenever any of them won a match, it was for all three of them.

Tyson said his wins were for his cats and, well, that wasn’t untrue. But his wins had all been for Nattie and Toni too.

He and Cesaro had been smiling into the screen dumbly for a couple minutes now, too lost in each other’s eyes to say anything; eventually, Cesaro chuckled and looked away. “The match was... alright,” he admitted.

“And you looked pretty damn good too,” Tyson added, verbally prodding until Cesaro was back to his usual self. It felt good.

“Well of course, there’s no point in showing up at all if you don’t look divine,” he boasted, smiling ruefully. “The slobs they make me work with here, Tyson, you wouldn’t believe. Some of them don’t even tailor their own suits!”

“The nerve of them,” Tyson agreed, and they both giggled. “Well Toni, I’m going to have to apologise, I’m only calling you in my pyjamas. _Far_ below dress code.”

“Which pyjamas?”

“The ones you hate.”

Cesaro groaned. “Tyson, I told you to throw those away, they’re a decade old and full of holes!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Tyson said with mock defensiveness. “Would you rather I took them off?”

“You know I would,” Cesaro growled. It was the same exchange they’d had dozens of times, a tradition practically, since they’d started spending so much time apart. Tyson smiled fondly at the camera.

“Go. Take a shower, Toni, you did great tonight and deserve some rest. And tell Sheamus it was a good match!”

“I will do one of those things,” Cesaro said, smirking.

“ _Antonio._ ”

“Will we do a three way call when I’m back at my hotel?”

Tyson smiled, shaking his head. “Of course we will. Talk to you in a few hours. And Toni?”

“Yes, Tyson?”

“It really was a beautiful win tonight.”

Cesaro stared longingly into his phone, as though he wanted nothing more right that minute than to hold Tyson in his arms. “You know I could not have done it without you, love.”

Tyson nodded. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> Things I have strong feelings about: 
> 
> 1) the culture and symbolism of signature moves in general  
> 2) this perfect poly trio  
> 3) the overlap of the above


End file.
